


Where Indeed?

by FreshBrains



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Costumes, F/M, Flirting, Halloween, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 00:29:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"A bunch of people dressed like witches came in and saw me sitting on the bathtub ledge fixing my hair and eating a candy apple while Isaac puked in the toilet.  I sort of bolted on him, and he’s probably looking for me.  But I’m done with the boy drama," Erica said.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>	Stiles laughed.  “That’s a very high school thing to say.  I might borrow it sometime.”</i>
</p>
<p>(In which Stiles and Erica hide from their almost-hookups and Stiles has to guess Erica's costume in the dark.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Indeed?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fluffy little Halloween fic for a ship I refuse to let die (there was just _so much_ potential...) 
> 
> Happy Halloween, you little shits! <3

The party felt like a bad idea right out of the gate, but admitting that to Scott was unnecessary the second they walked into Heather’s house to see Allison standing next to Danielle and Lydia in a full-body, glow-in-the-dark black skeleton bodysuit, dark hair curling out from under her truly-frightening skeleton mask. 

“Scott, hey! Over here!” She flipped her mask over the crown of her head, revealing her wide smile and pink cheeks. She jumped a little, waving Scott over, and Stiles could practically here Scott’s boner bust the zipper on his jeans. As he and Scott made their way towards the candy-corn littered dessert table, Heather bustled downstairs in the brightest hot-pink princess getup Stiles had ever seen, throwing him a cursory wave with her plastic wand on her way down before disappearing into a throng of partygoers in the kitchen.

“I didn't even know you guys would be here tonight,” Stiles said, swallowing his admiration when faced with three of the nicest handmade costumes he’d ever seen on three of the coolest people he’d ever known. Upon closer inspection, Allison’s glow-in-the-dark skeleton was hand-painted, and her mask was handmade papier-mâché. 

“We decided to come last minute after trick or treating. I found your friend Heather’s invite in my locker,” Lydia said, still managing to look cool and composed in a spray-painted silver and black two-foot-tall wig, a floor-length cream lace dress, and realistic-looking red rubber gashes connecting her Bride of Frankenstein limbs. Her face was caked with white, shadowy makeup, but she was still the most beautiful girl in the room.

The house was decked out in classic Halloween décor—black and orange streamers, paper skeletons on the walls, fluffy cobwebs in the doorways. The only way Stiles could tell it was a high school house party and not a kid’s birthday shindig was by the empty clear plastic bottles next to the punch bowl, the blue cases of beer under the table, and the Jell-O shots lined up in skull-shaped glasses next to the candy dish.

“I've been planning all year. Heather and I always coordinate costumes.” Danielle poured Stiles a cup of bright orange punch, careful not to drag the crushed velvet sleeve of her medieval gown in the bowl. Her dress dripped in fake rubies and sapphires, and a gold crown sat gracefully atop her head. 

“So Heather’s the princess, and you’re…”

“The queen, obviously,” she said, throwing him a grin. “Igraine, to be more specific.”

“Yo, Stilinski, I better say hey now. I might not be able to find you later.” Greenburg passed by with a sloshing red cup, dressed in a truly awful store-bought Iron Man costume, mask dangling by one ear. Stiles rolled his eyes, but he had to hide his smile. He’d been waiting weeks for the cheesy jokes to flood in. 

“This is a great costume, Stiles,” Allison said genuinely, tugging on his red and white striped shirt. “It suits you.”

“It really does, Waldo. I lose you in crowds all the time,” Lydia said dryly, but winked at Stiles. She’d helped him find the perfect, goofy red hat and glasses, as well as the awful blue polyester pants that were already making him itch in terrible places. 

Stiles and Scott were Halloween champs—they always spent weeks on costumes when they were kids. But as they got older, they never quite got past the _I’m too cool for costumes_ phase in middle school. This year was the first time since he was twelve where he wore a Halloween costume to a party.

“He was obsessed with _Where’s Waldo_ books when we were kids,” Scott said. “He was the best at them.” Scott, never one to remember when important dates were looming, barely had time to throw together a halfway-decent Big Lebowski costume, looking enviably cozy in a big sweater, sandals, and a paste-on goatee. 

“Well, you look much better than some of the people here. It’s like no one puts in the effort anymore,” Lydia scoffed. She was always the perfectionist, and Halloween was no exception.

Stiles spotted an awesome three-person dragon costume across the living room and leaned over to get Scott’s attention, but Scott was already next to Allison, whispering in her ear and making her giggle. Before Stiles could protest, Scott and Allison disappeared into the kitchen, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. “I’ll catch you later, buddy! Don’t leave without me!” Scott called over his shoulder.

Stiles nodded awkwardly, wishing his friend the best. It sucked to be party-ditched, but he knew how hard it was for Scott and Allison to find time to hang out. 

“I have to make my rounds,” Lydia said, picking up the hem of her dress. “I can’t sit down or my wig hits the wall behind me.”

“Wait, you’re leaving me, too?” Stiles needed a party anchor; it was a must in any social situation. He was an extrovert by nature, but a lot of Heather’s friends were from her old private school, and he usually had Scott by his side. It was easier with someone else.

Lydia rolled her eyes and patted Stiles on the shoulder. “Oh, you’ll be fine. Danny is playing beer pong in the hallway, go annoy him. I’ll be back soon.”

“And I’m going to make sure nobody is making out on Heather’s bed. That’s her only party rule,” Danielle said, regally swishing out of the room in a cloud of lilac perfume.

Stiles stood at the table, hands raised, looking around the room.

“Wow,” he huffed to himself, trying not to look too dejected. “Waldo has been abandoned. This is almost too perfect.”

~

Stiles didn't make drinking a huge habit—he was only sixteen, for crying out loud, and he’d seen what drinking did to his dad (and what drinking could do to _him_ , given that said dad was the damn sheriff). He rarely overdid it. 

But it was a problem when literally every surface was covered in neon-colored booze. Plastic skulls and pumpkins filled with punch, bottles and cans resting on ice in coolers along the staircase, shots coming out on trays like there was some kind of shot-producing machine hammering away in the kitchen. Stiles knew how to say no, but he was only human.

And humans (such as Stiles) had the bad habit of blatantly hitting on the hottest guy in school after a few too many. It just so happened that the hottest guy in school wasn't exactly sober himself.

“Stilinski, I admire the determination, but I think we should probably get you some water.” Danny stumbled a little down the hallway with Stiles at his side. He wound his arm around Stiles’ waist, and Stiles grinned into Danny’s neck. _This night could’ve turned out worse._

Danny was a nice guy…the _nicest_ guy, actually, and Stiles knew it. Hot damn, did he know it. He smelled good, too. He smelled like what Stiles imagined the real Bruce Wayne would smell like, despite the fact Danny was dressed like _Dark Knight Rises_ hermit-era Bruce Wayne with a printed bathrobe and cane in one hand. He had three beer pong balls in one pocket of the robe and Stiles’ Waldo glasses in the other.

_Who knew Danny was a DC fan, anyways?_

“I just…you’re such a nice guy. Even when you yell at me.” Stiles wasn't slurring yet, but he was well on his way. He wound his arms around Danny’s neck, and wasn't at all surprised when Danny’s strong hands gripped his waist, rucking up his shirt a little and touching bare skin.

“Christ, you’re way cuter when you’re not asking me if you’re attractive.” Danny pressed Stiles up against one of the door frames in the hallway, eyes hooded and dark. He ran his hands down Stiles sides, getting closer to his ass. There was something slightly intimidating about him, despite Danny being the most laidback person Stiles ever met. Danny was stronger than him, and taller. 

Stiles had a split-second of doubt. He liked Danny and definitely found him attractive. But even as he collected his jumbled thoughts, he knew he was getting foggy. Foggy enough to know when a hook-up sounded hot but would end up being a bad idea. If he told Danny to stop, he’d stop immediately. But Stiles didn't know what he wanted.

“Why don’t you go into Heather’s room, and I’ll go get us some water.” Danny leaned in close to Stiles like he was about to kiss him, then pushed off the wall and disappeared down the hallway, swaying a little. Stiles didn't know much about one-night stands, but it seemed like a pretty smooth segway into getting someone into bed.

He opened the door to Heather’s empty room, but after pausing for a moment, went down the hall to her parents’ bedroom, ignoring the “Keep Out” sign scrawled in black marker. The shades were pulled and the room was pitch-dark. Stiles found the bed and sat down, eventually slumping into the warm blankets. His head ached a little, but with a few glasses of water, he wouldn't be in bad shape the next day.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he murmured to himself, and immediately felt silly. Brow scrunched in tipsy confusion, he continued his conversation with himself, pulling a frilly pillow against his chest. “But why wouldn't I want to hook up with Danny?”

“Because you’re tipsy and horny and Danny is hot and hammered,” replied a low, sarcastic voice from two inches away on the other side of the bed. Stiles let out a noise that could only be described as _hurg_ , flailed off the bed, and landed with a thump on what felt like a stack of magazines. 

“Christ on a cracker, who are _you_?” 

A figure rose up on the bed, and Stiles could make out a large-brimmed hat and a flow of long hair. “I’m your fairy godmother, obviously. I’m here to talk you out of making a shit-poor decision.”

“Wait, really? That’s—that’s actually pretty cool.” _How drunk_ am _I?_

The girl on the bed laughed, sarcasm momentarily gone. “Are you kidding me? I’m doing the same thing as you, actually, so either get back on the bed or I’m coming down there. We’re hiding together.”

Still confused, Stiles leaned against the bed frame and massaged his bruised elbow. “I’m not going anywhere. Bring a blanket if you’re coming down.”

The girl slid down next to him, two pillows and a lacy throw blanket in tow. “I’m Erica, by the way. We have class together.” Before Stiles could ask which Erica she was and which class they had together, she continued. “Now tell me about Danny. I want to see how my own humiliating experience compares.”

A little stunned, Stiles started talking without thinking. “Uh, well…he’s good-looking, and popular, and we don’t even really know each other. I beat him at beer pong, which, wow, is sort of awesome, considering he’s a way better athlete than me…”

Erica made an impatient huffing noise. “No, I know who Danny is; I go to your damn school. I want to know why you’re having an existential crisis about fucking him.”

Stiles’ face went red and he was grateful Erica couldn't see it in the dark. “Jeez, no one’s fucking anyone tonight. I’m a sixteen-year-old virgin, I’m not going to have sex for the first time at a Halloween party dressed like Where’s Waldo.”

“You almost had sex with Heather at her birthday party last month.”

“Wh—how did you know that?” Stiles balked. He felt Erica’s shrug against his shoulder.

“Girls talk. You know, I think you made the right choice. She and Danielle are pretty close now.”

Stiles already suspected, but he was still a little surprised. “I bet it was more special...doing it with someone you really love.” He didn't know Danielle very well, but she and Heather were best friends since childhood. They had the sort of closeness that he and Scott had, and the thought of having that closeness with a romantic partner made him smile.

“It is,” Erica said quietly, draping the blanket over her and Stiles’ legs. Three pairs of feet bustled across the strip of light beneath the door, but no one came in. A techno remix of “The Monster Mash” blared from downstairs. “At least I thought it was.”

Stiles was quiet for a second. He didn't know Erica, but the sadness in her voice made it sound like she’d recently lost someone important. “Do I know him?”

She shrugged again. “Maybe. His name is Boyd. He’s tall, made of muscle, and hotter than any guy I’ve ever met. He’s so funny, too…no one really knows that about him because he’s so quiet. God, I was so in love with him.” Her voice was still sad, but Stiles knew how it felt to savor those happy memories along with the bad. “We’re still friends, but it isn't the same.”

Stiles thought about his friendship with Lydia, how their one little kiss during a panic attack put up permanent walls between them. “I know what you mean.” His buzz was wearing off, slowly but surely. “Is he who you’re hiding from tonight?”

Erica giggled, and Stiles had the sudden desire to see her smile. “No, he’s not here. I’m hiding from my best friend Isaac. He’s super drunk and we sort of made out in the bathroom. But when I left to go get something to drink I found him passed out on the floor when I got back.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s totally fine. I put him in a cold shower. _That_ woke him up.”

Stiles couldn't help but laugh with her. “I’m guessing that’s the humiliating experience you’re hiding from?”

“Basically. A bunch of people dressed like witches came in and saw me sitting on the bathtub ledge fixing my hair and eating a candy apple while Isaac puked in the toilet. I sort of bolted on him, and he’s probably looking for me. But I’m done with the boy drama.”

Stiles laughed. “That’s a very high school thing to say. I might borrow it sometime.”

They sat in peaceful quiet for a few seconds, listening to the party thump along downstairs. “So you’re dressed as Waldo, huh? That’s kind of awesome, actually. I went with a similar idea.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows and looked over at Erica, but it was hopeless in the dark. “You’re going to make me guess, aren't you?”

“You’re damn right. I’ll give you a hint—I’m a gorgeous woman, and children love me.”

“Oh, come on, that could be anyone.”

“Guess!”

“Uh…the pink Power Ranger?”

“No, but I’ll keep it in mind for next year.”

“Wonder Woman.”

“I wish.”

“Miss Frizzle from _The Magic Schoolbus_.”

“Oh my god, that was last year! Seriously!”

“You have to give me more. Give me another hint.”

Stiles heard Erica breathe gently, and he felt a hand on his. Her fingers were dry and soft, and she had long manicured nails. “Here. Let me show you.”

His heart hammered in his throat as she brought his hand slowly to her chest and guided his fingers to the buttons on her coat. “You feel those?”

“Yessir,” he said, trying hard to ignore the swell of her chest and how warm she felt as her pulse tapped against his fingers. 

“Now, further down…” she guided his palm to her waist, and he felt a stiff canvas belt tied in a knot above her hips. His wrist brushed against the softness of her belly, and he shivered. As he pulled his hand up slowly, he felt warm wool brush against his skin.

“A trench coat,” he said, his voice cracking. “And a scarf.”

Erica was kind enough to ignore it. “Bingo. So I’m a beautiful woman, kids love me, and I wear a trench coat and a scarf. Any guesses?”

Stiles swallowed, his jaw clicking, and shook his head, forgetting she couldn't see him. “I think…I think I need another hint.”

Erica laughed. “Oh, I’m sure. I’ll take pity on you.” She grasped his hand again and twined her fingers through his. “What should I show you next…” She pulled his hand past her chest, past her waist.

She let their hands drift down, down, further, beneath the blanket. Stiles closed his eyes as his face warmed; her thighs were bare and he could feel their silky-smooth heat radiating onto his arm. But before he could feel anything, _touch_ anything, Erica pulled their hands back over the blanket and raised their arms overhead. She leaned in, close enough for Stiles to smell something sweet on her breath and whispered, “You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?”

He laughed. He couldn't help it. This girl was _doing_ things to him. “You can’t blame me for trying.” He felt her hat—rough felt, maybe a fedora or something larger.

“If you guess correctly, maybe I’ll give you a prize.”

Stiles groaned. “Oh god, that is so cheesy. I don’t want what you’re giving if those are your lines.”

Erica burst out laughing, leaning into Stiles. His buzz had mostly faded and he felt light and a little sleepy, but he suspected that was just Erica.

“Maybe you should lie down for a little bit and guess later,” Erica said. “It’s getting pretty late.” The room felt still and comfortable, their own private cave away from the party outside.

Stiles couldn't help but stifle a yawn. “That doesn't sound so bad. Want to take a nap with me?”

“Sure. But this nap remains PG, got it?”

“Scout’s honor.”

They lay down on the soft pile of the carpet, and Stiles drifted off to sleep with Erica’s warm body next to his and a Horror Sound Effects CD playing downstairs.

*

Stiles woke up with a pillow draped over his head and his mouth sticky and fuzzy. He opened his eyes, but immediately closed them, groaning as the sun bounced off his brain.

“Fuck you, alcohol. You’re no friend of mine,” he muttered, but he knew the soreness was the product of sleeping on the floor rather than drinking too much. He pulled his hat over his eyes and sat up slowly, only a little dizzy.

He heard a soft groan next to him, and someone stirred. Erica.

Stiles pulled his hat back over his head and peeked over at the girl sleeping next to him. She had long blond hair, softly curled and tinted with light streaks, and it covered her face. Her legs were long and smooth under her skirt and her nails were painted black. “Hey, Erica. Wake up, its already morning.”

Erica sighed and sat up. Her hair fell in a curtain away from her face, and she gave Stiles a sleepy smile. 

Stiles felt a little thrill go up his spine as he took in the big eyes, the quirked smile, the piercings in both ears. Erica was _that_ Erica, the girl in his gym class. She was sweet, nice to everyone, but very quiet. Stiles knew from when she talked to her few friends that she read comic books and watched every single sci-fi TV show that aired, and he always wanted to talk to her, but she was so shy. He didn't know how.

“Uh…hey. Hi. How are you?” He stumbled over his words and sat cross-legged on the carpet, facing Erica, who rose from the floor like Sleeping Beauty. 

“I’m just fine. I should be asking you the same question. Hung-over?” She reached over and swept his hair back under his hat, giving him a smile, private grin.

“Not as bad as I thought, actually. It was…it was a nice way to wake up. Next to you.”

It was Erica’s turn to groan. “And you made fun of me for _my_ lines?”

They both heard a loud snore from above them and turned to see who invaded their space in the middle of the night. They had to hold back their laughter at the sight of both Isaac and Danny lying on their stomachs, arms draped over each other’s back, fast asleep.

“I guess our hiding spot wasn't that great,” Erica said into her palm, muffling her laugh.

“Come on, let’s go downstairs. I left my phone in the kitchen, and I bet Scott texted me a million times.” Stiles got up slowly and reached down to help Erica up.

They opened the door as quietly as possible and crept out of the room. The hallway was filled with discarded costume parts, empty cups, plates, and massive amounts of glitter. Stiles glanced into Heather’s room and saw Scott asleep on the bed, arm around Allison. She wore his sweater and he wore her mask. Stiles smiled and closed the door for them.

They walked downstairs to find party-goers asleep on every available surface. Danielle was asleep on the couch with Heather curled up under her arm in a cloud of pink tulle, her tiara sliding off her forehead.

“I can give you a ride home,” Erica whispered, digging into her pocket for her keys. She looked up and stopped on her way to the door. “Shit, I almost forgot! I never made you guess again. The surprise was ruined.” She stood in the living room in her red coat, red hat, and yellow scarf, tall and proud.

Stiles looked down at the floor, feigning shame. “Well, I…I sort of knew right away. It was the hat, you know?” He looked back up at Erica. “I’d know a Carmen Sandiego anywhere.”

Erica tried for only a second to be angry, but her face broke out into a dimpled smile that made Stiles’ stomach flip. “Oh, Waldo, you tricky little bastard. I think that means you get to buy breakfast.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles said as they walked into the cool autumn air. “Where in the world would you like to go?”

He followed her laughter all the way to the car.


End file.
